Welcome to the enchanted land
by todd fan
Summary: COMPLETE (Magic Roundabout) To those who've never seen the show (it never aired in the US) this is a Todd Fan introduction to their world, enjoy!


Welcome to the enchanted land

By Todd Fan

Disclaimer: "Don't they have sarcasm where you're from?"

Woot, my first Magic Roundabout fanfic! The Magic Roundabout was a show filled with British sarcasm...probably why I liked it so much. Originally stock-motion animation, currently a CGI animated movie. Look on the web for it's French-British history, it's fascinating. Now, I know that most Americans have never heard of this show, as it was never aired over there. Hence, I shall introduce you to their world...TODD FAN STYLE!

A young girl with short, brown hair closed the gate of her home with a smile. She was known for being endlessly cute, of course, she was too modest to agree. She hummed as she headed down the lane towards the village square, how she managed to do this with her over-sized shoes was anyone's guess.

"You are SO wrong!"

Florence sighed as she neared the village square. It sounded as if the deziens were arguing...again. There was no doubt in her mind that a certain Maltese terrier was the instigator of said argument. She shook her head, stepping into the square. The centrepiece of the village was an old roundabout, the centre of all the magic in the enchanted village...as well as it's more sinister role. The Magic Roundabout's magic lay in children riding it. No children to ride: no magic, it was as simple as that. (1)

The only 3 humans in the area at the moment were standing to one side, watching the debate with varying degrees of intrest. The two other children, Coral and Basil, still being young, seemed to be enjoying it...that or they had been taking bets on who would win again. The other human as an old man, a long grey beard and mustashe hiding most of his features. This was Mr Rusty, the man who owned and ran the Roundabout. No one was EXACTLY sure how old Mr Rusty was, and as seen as the man bearly spoke more than ten words a day, it seemed pointless to ask.

"Hello, everyone", said Florence pleasantly, smiling at her friends.

"Shhhhh", said Basil, waving his hand at her, "this is getting good"

"Oh, please, of COURSE there are famous cows!"

The speaker was, indeed, a cow. A pink cow...with red spots. A blue hat sat on top of her head, her horns poking through holes in the top. She spoke with a cultured tounge, one whom was used to the best of the best...and probably wondering how on earth she'd ended up in the middle of nowhere with one of the oddest rag-tag group of 'friends' on the planet. This was Ermintrude. And Erimtrude was NOT one to be ignored.

A dog arched a brow at her. Well, it was ASSUMED he was a dog. It was always hard to tell, Dougal was best described as 'a bad hair day: with legs'. Of course, his legs had never been seen on account of the hair...but still, it was a good description.

"Name one", he challenged (2)

Ermintrude blinked.

"Well...there's...err...umm...no", she said, flustered, then narrowed her eyes, "I do NOT need to prove anything to you, Dougal"

"No, Ermintrude, you don't", said Brian with a nod.

Brian was a snail. Yes, a snail. A red shell, yellow body, a yellow scarf around his neck and a straw hat perched on his head. Brian was a rather large snail, this was true, but still small compared to the other creatures living in the village. Where Erimntrude was bossy and snobbish, where Dougal was a stubborn and selfish...Brian was the cynic. Cynical as he was, however, Brian often found himself the mediator between the dog and cow's frequent 'discussions'.

"Oh you WOULD stick up for HER, wouldn't you, Brian?", said Dougal icily.

"Leave him alone, he's being a gentleman!", snapped Ermintrude.

How a cow and a snail could have a loving relationship was out of the understanding of most of the other members of the village. In the end, they came to the reasoning at Brian worshiped the ground Ermintrude walked on, and Ermintrude was of the mind she deserved to be worshiped...their relationship worked quite well.

"See? This proves that dogs, mans BEST friend, are the most popular of animals", said Dougal with a smirk.

"What about rabbits?", asked Mr Rusty, "they are quite famous"

"Please, there are NO famous rabbits", snorted Dougal.

"Bugs Bunny, Roger Rabbit, Thumper", started Florence.

"The Energizer Bunny, Brer Rabbit, Peter Rabbit", continued Brian.

"Harvey, ninety percent of the cast of Watership Down...", said Ermintude, only to be cut off by Dougal.

"Okay, okay, I GET IT!", he snapped, then snorted, "I don't see what's so great about rabbits, anyway"

Dougal walked over to a brown form on the floor. A brown rabbit-shaped form. Dylan was rather...unique in the village. It was not just because he was the most athropomorphic of the animals, he was bipedial, had hands and wore blue jeans, a yellow jumper with a matching blue vest. Though that was quite a feat, Dylan was more unique for his ability to fall asleep anywhere. Anytime. Sometimes the word 'narcolepsy' was whispered around, though most thought Dylan was just...'a special'.

"I mean, what do they have going for them?", ranted Dougal, poking Dylan, "they aren't loyal, like dogs, they don't do anything but sleep and eat".

Dylan showed no signs of knowing he was the new subject of conversation, or even that he'd been poked, he just continued to snore, his ears flopped over his eyes.

"They have funny big feet and long floppy ears", giggled Coral.

Dougal looked at her for a long moment.

"Humans are in serious need of counseling", he muttered, walking off to sit by Florence, the only being he deemed almost as good as he was...almost, "hello, Florence"

Florence smiled, patting her dog on the head.

"Hello Dougal", she smiled, then gave a wicked grin, "have you been eating sugar again?"

Dougal whimpered. Dougal, unfortunately, had a great weakness. He had a dangerous sweet tooth. This sweet tooth often got him up to his furry neck in trouble. Even worse, often got everyone ELSE in trouble along with him. Such as releasing evil ice-lords by ramming a cartfull of stolen sweets inot his prison, for example.(3)

"No, Florence", he lied, "not a sugar cube...honest"

"You wouldn't know honesty if it walked up and called you 'mother'", sniffed Ermintrude, then cleared her throat, "your argument has cost me valuable concert time. I will have to cut it in half now!"

She either didn't hear...or more likey chose NOT to hear the collective groan from the crowd, minus Brian. Ermintrude was under the impression that she could sing opera...the general consensus of the village, however, was that she sounded like something being run through a blender. The only one to disagree was Brian, and he was in love, so his opinion didn't count.

"Oh...DEAR", said Dougal his voice dripping in sarcasm, "only HALF a show. I think I will DIE!".

Ermintrude sniffed.

"I shall have to book another preformance tomorrow", she said, "Rusty, at the organ, Dylan, WAKE UP NOW!".

"Huh?", replied Dylan sleepily, opneing one eye.

"We are ready now", said Ermintrude.

"For what?", yawned Dylan, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

Ermintrude's eye twitched. She supressed the urge to trample on the rabbit's head with her hooves. No, that would be unladylike. Besides, he was the only inhabitant in the village who could play the guitar.

"My CONCERT, Dylan, my concert!".

"Concert?", asked Dylan, his eyes starting to close again, "bad karma, man"

To call Dylan 'a bit of a hippie' was an understatement. Dylan was the hippie's hippie. The fact he had a constant stoned way about him didn't help matters. Luckily, this did mean that it was rare Dylan lost his temper, and as long as it didn't fool with 'the karmic ballance of the universe, man' he was usually happy to go along with anything.

"WAKE UP DYLAN", screamed Ermintrude.

"Okay, okay, I'm awake", he yawned, pulling himself to his oversized feet, rubbing a paw over his grey-yellow tuft of fur on his head between his ears.

He sighed, leaning down to pick up his guitar. The guitar was the single item that Dylan and brought with him on his arrival to the village. It was assumed that he had made it himself, as it's parts seemed to be made up of unevenly hacked-up pieces of wood. Still, Dylan loved 'his baby' and could created wonderfull tunes out of it. It was Dylan's guitar playing that made Ermintrude's 'concerts' bearable...though the village residents would have much rather the singing cow be cut out of the thing alltogether.

"La la la la LAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!", sang Ermintrude, warming up.

"We are going to die, slow, painfull deaths, aren't we?", asked Dougal.

"Just smile and nod, Dougal", said Florence, "you know how sensitive she is"

"My ears can't take much more of this, really, they can't", sobbed Basil.

Dylan winced as the cow hit a new high note, his ears drooping down.

"This was, like, not how I pictured playing music by ear", he sighed.

Luckily the 'concert' was cut short by another bearded man driving past on a scooter. This man was the elusive Mr MacHenry. He was the 'gardener' or the village, but spent most of his time riding around on his scooter yammering about mushrooms. Today was no exception.

"Rabbit!", he shouted in his thick, Irish accent, "you've been eating my mushrooms again!" (4)

Dylan looked around nervously.

"Errr...no...that wasn't me, man", he said, "it was...err...the other rabbit"

Mr MacHenry crossed his arms.

"There ARE no other rabbits!".

"ARE there?", asked Dylan, vainly hoping that his ability to give kryptic answers would save his hide.

Mr MacHenry blinked.

"Well...I dunnae rightly know", he admitted, getting back on his scooter, "I better go check, hadn't I?"

The group watched as he scootered off.

"How many did you eat THIS time?", snapped Brian, glaring at the rabbit.

"Only about five", said Dylan, then shurgged, "maybe six, like, it's so hard to remember, man".

"No more mushrooms for YOU", sniffed Ermintrude, "you've ruined my mood now, I can't possibly sing anymore!"

"Awwww", sighed Brian.

"Oh NO", sighed Dougal, then added in a whisper, "good rabbit, gonna get a carrot".

"I shall have to hold an extra LONG concert tomorrow", decided Ermintrude.

"...I'm going to kill Dylan", growled Dougal.

BOING!

The springing sound announced the arrival of one of the most respected inhabitants of the village. Before them was what could be best described as a jack-in-the-box...minus box. Zebedee had a bright red face, complete with white freckles, a silver spring and an old yellow jumper. On his face was a huge moustache, the source of all his power. Zebedee was a magician of sorts, he could have been called a diety, though he was the modest sort. True, he lived above them all in the clouds, and he weilded powers the others could only imagine. But he was beloved by all, he only wished peace and harmony in his land...bar a few arguments and sugar-or-mushroom-related-incidents, he usually got what he wished. Zebedee had existed for eons, he was a guardian spirit, and the others usually treated him with the respect he deserved, but never demanded.

"I really don't think killing Dylan would be an answer", said Zebedee, "it would be rather messy" (5)

Dougal looked away, muttering under his breath. His oath had gone unheard, Dylan had falled asleep again, slumped over his guitar.

"Well..ahem..yes", said Zebedee, "the train was quite distressed earlier, talking about a terrible happening over here".

The village had a magic train. This train could, indeed talk...when it wanted to. Sometimes, people chose not to hear it, which depressed the poor thing. (6)

Dougal looked pointedly in Ermintrude's direction.

"Oh", said Zebedee, "...I see".

Ermintrude sniffed.

"Come along, Brian, obviously tallent is wasted here today", she said, trotting away.

Brian looked between the love of his life and his friends. He sighed, rolling his eyes.

"She'll be on about this all night", he muttered, sliding after her.

Zebedee chuckled at them.

"Ahh to be young again", he said, "so, how was everyone's day?"

"Torture", said Coral, "I'm going home before I'm scarred for life".

"Come on, Dougal", said Florence, "I'll buy you a candy cane".

"Sweet sugar, sweet Florence", sighed Dougal, "did I mention I love you, beloved owner?"

"Once or twice", said Florence, then added under her breath, "usually when sugar is involved".

"Oh, look at the size of that mushroom", murmered Dylan in his sleep, "technicolour groovyness, man"

Zebedee sighed, shaking his head, before uttering those most famour of words:

"Time for bed" (7)

(1) - Sinister something is in reference to the movie. Also to note here, in the original series, it was but an enchanted GARDEN, not a village. But considering the 'garden' had houses, a field and well, alot of other stuff, I think it's safe to call it a village.

(2) - If you are hearing Dougal in Robbie Williams' voice...STOP IT NOW! STOP IT! Ahem...sorry. The movie was great, and every character was spot on to their original selves...except Dougal. Robbie Williams hasn't got a deep enough voice to be Dougal. Okay, rant stopping now.

(3) - Yes, that is the movie. Go see it. Go on, you may feel foolish, but if a 21 year old woman can see it alone, anyone can!.

(4) - Explainations in order. Magic Roundabout achived cult status mostly thanks to the rumors it was drug-centred. There was a 'Magic Mushroom' episode which seemed to clinch it as fact...though the creators denied it to their graves. Subtle drugs refrences are in the new movie, they will be in my fanfics...it wouldn't be Magic Roundabout without them.

(5) - Pronounced Zeh-beh-dee.

(6) - In the movie, the characters can't hear the train speak, though they COULD in the old series, if memory serves.

(7) - The show (and movie, for that matter) ALWAYS ended with Zebedee saying this. It sent children of many genrations (myself and my older brother included) off to bed. The utterance of those words tends to make me feel sleepy even to this day. Brainwashed, I tell you.

And there we go. Oh yes, there shall be more Magic Roundabout fics. If you hadn't guessed, Dylan is my favorite character, has been since before I can remember. There's something I've always liked about that stoned, narcoleptic hippie. Do review.!


End file.
